Suspicious by Heather Graham
She noticed that they had left the turnpike and were following the signs for the airport. He glanced at her again. “I’m meeting with a Metro-Dade detective. We’re meeting a detective named Lars Garcia and picking up an old friend of mine.” He hesitated just slightly. “That’s why I didn’t want you along. It’s not going to be pleasant. Julie’s parents were murdered last night.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.”
“I warned you.”
“What happened?”
“They were shot,” he said flatly.
She decided not to ask any questions for the next few minutes. He’d obviously been deeply affected by the murders.
They parked at the airport. Jesse knew where he was going and walked quickly. Lorena followed him. Outside Concourse C, he walked over to a man in a plain suit, a man with light brown hair and green eyes, but dark brows and lashes. Even before she was introduced, Lorena knew that this was Lars Garcia.
She felt the keen assessment he gave her. Part of his job, she imagined. Summing people up quickly.
“So you’re working out at Harry’s?” he murmured.
She didn’t have time to answer.
“There she is,” Jesse said softly, spotting his old friend, Julie.
“I’ll go,” Lars Garcia offered.
But Jesse shook his head.
He left Lars and Lorena, and walked toward the dark-haired, exotic-looking Latin beauty who was coming their way. She was wearing glasses, apparently to hide the redness in her eyes, which was apparent when she saw Jesse and took them off. Then she dropped the overnight bag she’d been carrying and went into his arms, sobbing.
Lorena looked down, feeling like an intruder. “It’s all right,” Lars Garcia said softly.
She looked up at him.
“They’re just good friends.”
Lorena felt her cheeks flush hotly. “No, no, don’t get the wrong impression. I’m just here…by accident, really. I barely know Officer Crane.”
Lars Garcia continued to assess her as Jesse, an arm around Julie, led her to where Lorena and Lars stood waiting.
“Julie, this is Detective Lars Garcia. He’s in charge of the case,” Jesse said. “And this is…Lorena. Lars, Lorena, Julie Hernandez.”
Julie offered Lorena a teary, distraught but somehow still warm smile.
“Julie, I’m so sorry,” Lorena murmured, feeling totally inadequate and wrenched by the girl’s pain. She could all too easily remember the feelings of agony, frustration and fury, and always the question of why?
And after that, the who?
And now?
And now the gut-deep fury and determination that the truth would be known.
“Thank you.” Julie looked at her for a long moment, as if sensing Lorena’s sincerity. Then she turned to Garcia. “Whoever did this…why? My parents never hurt a soul in their entire lives.”
“We’re going to find out why,” Lars vowed softly. “We need your help, though. We need anything you can give us.”
Julie visibly toughened then, summoning her anger and determination from deep within, her inner reserves rising over the natural agony she was feeling. “I was just telling Jesse…I have no idea. They had no enemies. But I promise you, I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“Are you up to coming to the station with me now?” Lars asked. “It can wait, if you’d rather.”
“No. No, I’ll go now,” Julie said, and swallowed. She looked at Jesse. “Jesse…?”
“Call me when you’re done.”
She nodded, trying to smile.
Lars took Julie’s arm and cast a grateful glance over her dark head at Jesse.
The two walked off.
“I’m so sorry,” Lorena said. She had never met the couple, but the sense of loss had seemed to envelop her. Impossible to see Julie and not feel it. She felt horrible, like an intruder, again. “I…wish there were something I could say, do.”
Jesse nodded, then said only, “I can get you back now.”
The silence, growing awkward between them, lasted as they left the airport, taking the expressway to the Trail, then heading straight down the road that stretched the width of the southern tip of the peninsula.
They passed homes and developments, and then the casino. After that, houses and businesses became few and far between.
She was startled when Jesse suddenly said, “Can you give me another half hour?” He turned and looked at her with those startling eyes of his. She wondered if he had decided he didn’t feel quite so much contempt for her, or if he was merely so distracted he’d barely even been aware till then that she was there with him.
“I…of course. Of course. Harry said it was no problem,” she murmured.
They pulled off onto something she wasn’t sure she would have categorized as a road. As they proceeded along a winding trail, she realized that they were on farmland.
A minute later, she saw the crime tape. Jesse Crane pulled off the road.
“Excuse me. Stay here—I’ll be just a minute,” he said.
He exited the car, leaving her in the passenger’s seat. Lorena hesitated for the briefest fraction of a second, then followed him.
She wasn’t about to stay.
Jesse wasn’t in the area enclosed by the tape. He was standing just outside of it, talking to a uniformed officer and a man in street clothes who had an ease in being there that suggested he was also a cop.
As she walked up, she could hear the man in street clothes talking. “Yeah, Doc Thiessen has the gator arm…the leg, whatever, that you discovered. I really don’t see how it’s going to help us. The Hernandezes were killed by bullets, not wildlife run amok!” He saw Lorena approaching before Jesse did, and he watched her, curiously and appreciatively, as she walked up to the scene.
Jesse turned to look at her with annoyance, a serious frown furrowing his brow.
“I told you to wait in the car,” he said coldly.
“Hello, ma’am,” the young uniformed officer said.
“Yes, hello,” the man in plainclothes said. “How do you do? I’m Abe Hershall.”
“Officer Gene Valley, ma’am,” the uniform said.
“How do you do?” She shook hands with the tall, slender, dark-eyed man who was obviously a detective, and the uniformed officer. Jesse stood by silently, waiting, not apologizing for his rudeness, and certainly not offering any information about her.
“I’m working at Harry’s,” she said herself.
“The new nurse,” Gene Valley said. “Well, welcome to the area.”
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“Working for old Harry, huh?” Abe Hershall said, shaking his head ruefully. “Well, good for Harry.”
“This is a crime scene,” Jesse reminded them all. “Ms. Fortier, now that you’ve met everyone, I believe it’s time for me to get you back.”
Taking Lorena by an elbow, he steered her forcefully back to the car.
“I can walk on my own,” she said.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
“It’s a million degrees in there.” She looked him in the eye. “Who was that?” she asked. “Abe…is he Lars’s partner?”
“Yes.”
He forced her determinedly back into the car. The door slammed. She gritted her teeth.
“You found a piece of a gator out there?” she asked when he was in the driver’s seat.
“This is the Everglades. There are lots of alligators, and naturally, some die.” He put the car in gear and started driving, his eyes straight ahead.
“But you found a piece of one.”
Jesse slammed on the brakes, turned and stared at her, angry. Whether with her, or with himself, she wasn’t sure. “Look, we found a piece of an alligator, yes. And I’d appreciate it if you would just shut up about it. I’m trying to keep that bit of information out of the press. You see, I’d really like to know if there’s a connection between that and a murder. Damn! This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have
Lorena looked straight ahead. “I have no intention of leaking any information,” she said.
He stared at her. “Really? And should I ask for that as a guarantee, written in stone? After all, I don’t know anything about you.”
She grated her teeth. “Do I look like someone who would shoot an innocent couple?”
“No. But you don’t look like someone who’d be working at Harry’s, either,” he said sharply.
She let out an explosion of exasperation. “I don’t suppose you’d believe I actually like it out here?”
“Right. Nothing like being a nurse at an alligator farm,” he murmured.
“Maybe it’s just an easy gig,” she said.
He didn’t reply. Her heart sank. She had a feeling that he was going to know everything there was to know about her within the next forty-eight hours.
Maybe she should just tell him.
Maybe not. He obviously thought of her as some kind of fragile cream puff. Maybe a rich brat playing games. She shouldn’t have brought her own car, she thought, hindsight bringing sudden brilliance.
If he found out anything about what she was doing, he might well find a way to get her out of Harry’s—fast. Even that evening.
Could he do such a thing? Was he good friends with Harry—or whoever was involved?
She kept silent.
A few minutes later, they drove back into the complex that comprised Harry’s Alligator Farm and Museum.
“Thanks,” Lorena murmured, getting ready to hop out of the car as quickly as possible.
He caught her hand lightly. She held still, not meeting his eyes, but careful not to make any attempt to jerk free. She realized that he frightened her. Not because she thought he would hurt her, but because he aroused something in her, something emotional. She found herself waiting to tell him everything, wanting just to be with him.
“Be careful,” he warned softly.
“Of…?” she murmured.
“Well, an elderly couple was just shot,” he said impatiently.
“I’ll be all right,” she said. Then she pulled free. There was something far too unnerving about his touch. She didn’t like the fact that though she barely knew him, she respected him already. Admired him. Even liked him. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be seeing you,” he said pleasantly.
“Of course,” she said, and then, at last, she managed to flee.
There wasn’t much daylight left, but since Ginny had called in to the station several times saying that Billy Ray hadn’t yet come home, Jesse decided it was time to check out his fishing spots.
Billy Ray was lazy, a creature of habit, and Jesse wasn’t surprised when he found the man’s beat-up old boat at his first stop in the vast grounds off the Trail.
The boat had been floating in the middle of the canal—already suspicious—and there was no sign of Billy Ray.
Jesse began walking along the embankment. At first he let his mind wander, mentally reminding himself that he had a record of Lorena Fortier’s driver’s license, enough to find out something about the woman. Frankly, he admitted to himself, he was worried about her. He could hardly say that he knew her from their two encounters, but there was something about her eyes, about the very real compassion she had shown the elderly woman, that made him feel she was—despite his original assessment—a decent human being.
There was something about her that made him feel a lot more, as well. Now that he’d gotten closer to her, it was far more than the simple fact that she was stunning, though that was good for a swift, hot rise of the libido. She was quick to show empathy, and in the right way. She seemed to sense pain and use her warmth to heal it. Her energy was electric.
Sensual.
He swore out loud, reminding himself that he was here trying to determine what had happened to Billy Ray Hare.
Still…
She had roused not just his senses, but thoughts that he had kept at bay for a long time. There was nothing casual about her. She evoked real interest—and very real desire. But, he realized, not the kind that could be easily sated, then forgotten.
What was it about her?
Her eyes? Her behavior? Or the way she looked? Like a blond goddess, tempting in the extreme.
He mentally shook his head, reminding himself again that this wasn’t the time to discover that there was life not just in his limbs, but in his soul. Two good people had been murdered, and Billy Ray was missing. This definitely wasn’t the time to be feeling a stab of desire just because a woman had walked into his neck of the woods.
Still, even as he concentrated his attention on the wet ground, the endless saw grass and the canal, he felt a strange sense of tension regarding her.
She was involved. Somehow, she was involved.
Just as that thought came to his mind, he found Billy Ray.
What was left of him.
Sally finished up with the day’s entrance receipts, locked her strongbox and papers in the safe, and smoothed back her hair. Quite a day. All the commotion.
So much going on. Admittedly, most of the time so little went on here. That was why she had to make things happen. With that in mind, she started humming.
She was done for the day.
She walked determinedly down the hallway. News, any little bit of it, spread like wildfire around here. She loved to be the first to know any little tidbit.
She headed across the center of the complex.
“Hey, Sally!”
She smiled at the man leaning against one of the support poles.
“Hey, yourself,” she said softly. Teasingly. It got boring out here, after all.
“Got anything for me?” he asked softly, since there were still both tourists and co-workers around.
She walked up to him, smiled, placed a hand lightly on his chest. “Maybe,” she murmured seductively.
“Maybe?”
“Well, it depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you’ve got for me,” she whispered.
She let her hand linger for a moment. A promise, just like her whisper. Then she walked away.
She could be warm; she could give.
But she fully intended to receive in return. After all, there was pleasure.
And then there was business.
The gates had closed; the last of the tourists were flooding out as Lorena returned. She headed straight for her room, a quick shower and a change of clothes.
Though she wasn’t accustomed to choosing her wardrobe for the purpose of seduction, she did so that night. A soft, pale blue halter dress seemed the right thing—cool enough for the summer heat, a garment that molded over the human form. She brushed her hair until it shone, then played with different ways to part it. She found a few of the effects amusing, but decided to go back to a simple side part and a sleek look. A touch of makeup, and she was off.
She found Dr. Michael Preston in the company cafeteria. The kitchen was centrally located between the employee dining area/lounge and the massive buffet area where visitors were welcome. During the day, a head chef worked with two assistants and three buffet hostesses. By night, only the offerings of the day and two cafeteria workers remained.
Alligator—sautéed, fried and even barbecued—was always on the menu. Lorena had dined on it in the past, but tonight she didn’t want it, not in any form.
As she’d expected, she saw Michael Preston—who hadn’t ordered gator, either—sitting with the keepers, the blond Australian, Hugh Humphrey, and the tall, striking Seminole, Jack Pine.
The three men rose as she approached. Jack whistled softly. “Wow! And welcome. Are you joining us?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Are you kidding?” Hugh demanded pleasantly.
“You’re definitely a breath of beautiful fresh air around this place,” Jack assured her.
“Please,??
She smiled, thanked him and sat down.
“I heard we had a bit of a freak-out today, and that you went with Jesse to take the woman home,” Jack said. “Bizarre, huh?”
“Her friend was…eaten,” Lorena said softly. “Why she was out here after that, I don’t know.”
Michael made an impatient sound. “Do you know what happens most of the time when gators kill? Some idiot thinks you can feed them like you feed the ducks at a pond.” He shook his head. “First we destroy their natural habitat. Every year, development spreads farther west, into the Everglades. Naturally there are waterways. Then people wonder what the alligators are doing in their canals.”
“Well, trust me,” Jack said ruefully, his tone light and teasing, “you’re not going to stop progress.”
Hugh looked at Lorena seriously. “You’re not afraid of being eaten, are you?”
She shook her head. “Trust me, I have no intention of feeding the gators. I’ll leave that to you guys.”
“Man is not the alligator’s natural prey,” Michael said. “Go out to Shark Valley. You can walk those trails, and, trust me, there are hundreds of gators around, but they don’t bother anyone.”
“It really is unusual, and there’s always a reason, when a human is attacked,” Jack explained. “Most of the time Hugh and I get called because a gator has strayed into a heavily populated area. We catch it and bring it back out to the wilds. The end.”
“Do you ever keep the ones you ‘rescue’?” Lorena asked.
“No. We breed our own alligators here,” Michael said. “Harry’s been here a long time now. He started up with a small place when they were still really endangered, so a couple were captured. But now all our gators are farm raised, because they do make good eating. And their hides make spectacular leather. Farms like this one are an important part of the state’s economy. They’re much more than just tourist attractions.”
Lorena smiled. “They really are fascinating creatures,” she told Michael. “I’m absolutely intrigued by your work.”
“Cool,” Jack said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back. “We get a nurse who not only patches up our scrapes, she’s into the entire operation. I hear that you don’t mind working with the tour groups, either.”